


Snake Charmer

by Tay (erentitanjaeger)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Snakes, but only briefly, its not a euphamism, klance, lance/nyma - Freeform, like the animal, mentioned shiro/matt, rated t for swearing and make outs, they break up pretty quick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 20:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9287945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erentitanjaeger/pseuds/Tay
Summary: Keith is Lance's socially-awkward, quiet and reserved roommate, who wears too much black and walks around their apartment with his snake wrapped around his neck like a scarf and talks to her like she's a purring kitten.  They've only just started becoming friends.  So when Lance accidentally murders Keith's snake, he devises an elaborate plan to keep Keith from ever finding out.  Throw in an overprotective big brother and a vindictive would-be girlfriend, a dash of romantic feelings and an arcade outing that should be considered a date (but totally isn't), and Lance counts this as the craziest year of his life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written in a year but let's bang out a 20k word fic just because i'm bored

Lance was a man many of many talents, and now he could add ‘can successfully woo female he had been pining over for weeks’ onto that very long list.  What was even better about this situation is he hadn’t gone out totally intending to bed Nyma this weekend; honestly just the opposite.  But when you show up at your roommate’s brother’s party and the objection of your affections immediately shoves her tongue down your throat, well, you don’t really criticize the direction the night went. 

And sure, he definitely shouldn’t have ditched all his friends to finally worm his way into this girl’s good books but hey, Lance could probably plead his case after they all saw exactly _who_ they had been ditched _for,_ and that his weeks of flowers, chocolates, charming pick-up lines (charming, Hunk, not cheesy) had finally paid off, even though she had made a point of rejecting him only last week.  Yeah.  They would totally understand.

That wasn’t Lance’s main train of thought right now though, no, his attention entirely held by the blonde still sleeping next to him.  Lance couldn’t help but gaze at the way the sun hit her blonde eyelashes just right, or how soft it made her cheeks look, or how her long hair, now spread out over his second pillow, almost shone like a halo.  Yes, sappy thoughts, but give him a break, he was a literary major after all.  Lance sighed; happy, content.

Nyma, (previously mentioned having shoved her tongue down Lance’s throat, see above, remember now?) stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open to reveal bright blue irises still heavy with sleep (and a little bit of hangover).  Lance could see her looking around, trying to piece together exactly where she was and exactly what had happened last night, her eyes then settling on Lance, who gave her a broad grin before leaning over the space between them to give her a light kiss on the mouth.

“Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty!” he said cheerfully.  She immediately groaned and dug the palm of her hands into her eye sockets. 

“Not so loud, Lance,” she groaned.  “Hangover’s are a thing, y’know?”

“Sorry,” Lance chirped, voice volume lowered now.  Nyma continued to rub her eyes, apparently trying to dig the hangover right out of her head.  Lance chuckled, hand reaching over to lightly stroke her hair, a slightly, knotty mess considering last night, but still so soft.  Lance made a mental note to ask what conditioner she used later, ‘cause _damn_ was it soft.

Nyma pushed his hand away.

“I need to shower,” she announced, sitting up, probably too quickly considering the current state of her head. 

“Sure thing!” Lance sat up also, grabbing his boxers from where they hung unceremoniously on his lamp.  “You get in the shower, and I’ll go start breakfast!”

Nyma turned to him, giving him an odd look.

“French toast or pancakes?” He asked, still chirpy and now standing, stretching his long limbs and sighing in satisfaction when all his joints popped.

“Coffee,” she replied after a long pause.  Nyma stood up, taking Lance’s bed sheet with her.  She stopped in his doorway, apparently thinking over something.  “…with a side of French toast.”

Lance nodded, pointing out the bathroom to her before turning to the kitchen.  He noted his roommates door was still firmly shut, which meant he was either still asleep or had already headed out for the day.  It was only nine but Lance knew his roommate was an early riser even during the worst of hangovers.  Lance wasn’t even sure if he even had a hangover.  What kind of drinker was he?  Did he start with beers and go to hard liquor or was he a rum and coke kind-of-guy from the start?  Lance puzzled over this as he began beating eggs in a bowel.  He should really learn more about this new roommate of his.  It already didn’t bode well for them both that they barely saw each other and even then it was always awkward, always tense. 

Lance had just chalked it up to the guy being totally, socially inept to begin with.  But then again, in comparison to an overly-hyperactive, social beanpole such as Lance, _everyone_ seemed like a yeti just come home from a five-year trek in the arctic circle without any other human interaction. 

But nothing Lance couldn’t work with.  He had befriended many a socially awkward humans before and he was sure he could make leeway with this one if he was careful and gave it time.

Lance was ripped from his thoughts when a blood curdling scream sounded from the bathroom.  He immediately dropped the bowel over the sink where he had been holding it, racing to the bathroom and barging in, thankful Nyma had forgotten to lock it.

“What!?  What is it?! What!?” he screamed in panic, noting there didn’t seem to be any axe murders hiding behind his shower curtain, yet Nyma still remained pressed to the shower wall as if there was.  She was looking at the floor though, and when Lance followed her eyes, he finally noticed the cause of all her panic, and rightfully so.

I mean, expecting a nice, warm, relaxing shower in the midst of a hangover and then getting a one and a half metre long spotted python sharing said shower with you would most definitely be the shock of a life time.

“Get it out!” Nyma was screeching.  “Get it out! Get it out!”

“Oh shit!  Right!  Hang on!” Lance tried to get closer and grab the snake, but the water was making it slippery and snakes weren’t known for their grippable skin to begin with.  Lance’s head and shirt was now soaked as the snake only seemed to get agitated with Lance’s attempts at picking it up, sliding away from him and effectively closer to Nyma.

Nyma let out another ear-splitting scream as it brushed her leg.

“Oh. My. Fucking. GOD!” another voice joined their shower party, deep and scratchy.  “WHAT. IS. YOUR. DAMAGE?!”

Lance’s roommate entered the bathroom, thick black hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, dark bags under his eyes, yet his eyeliner was still somehow immaculate.  Lance was jealous.  He couldn’t even pull off eyeliner let alone keep it in place through an entire party and the sleep afterwards.

“Keith!” Lance was pleading now, begging.  “A little help please!”

Keith, Lance’s roommate and current snake wrangler, then noticed the python now trying its way up the shower wall, using Nyma’s leg as leverage, which she did not appreciate.  Her entire face had gone white with shock and her screeching had stopped, now suspended in fear.

Keith immediately shoved Lance out of the way, wrapped his hands around the snake and hoisted it out of the shower as if it were a lowly tree branch.  Keith then placed the snake on his shoulders, effectively getting his shirt also wet, but he didn’t seem to care in the least.  The snake’s head immediately sought out Keith’s face, sticking its forked tongue out as it sensed its master near.

“Sorry, baby,” Keith was now talking to the snake, his voice a lot calmer and high-pitched, as if he were talking to a kitten or a baby.  A real, human one.  Not the one he was now referring to.  “Did the big, mean, scawy wady step on you?  Let’s hope not.”

Lance had seen a lot of odd stuff in his life (you don’t become best friend’s with Pidge without seeing some nightmare-inducing sketches of two animals splotched together and having to remind her for the umpteenth time that sewing two animals together was, not only impossible, but also illegal), but watching his roommate, who wore all black, combat boots, eyeliner sharp enough to cut a bitch and piercings on almost every crevice of his face (there were actually only three but Lance was exaggerating to make a point), talking _baby-talk_ to a _snake_ was still one of the oddest things he had ever seen in his life.

“You’re all wet now, silly.  You’re gonna have to go sit in the sun until you dry,” Keith walked out of the bathroom, not even throwing Lance, or the still petrified Nyma, any kind of look of acknowledgement.

The only sound in the bathroom now was the sound of the shower still running, Nyma’s face having morphed from absolute fear to a look of fury, which she was pointing at Lance.

“Uh…so that’s Keith, my roommate, and you already met Cassie, short for Cascada, by the way, not Cassandra, as I made the mistake of calling her once.  Haha.”  Lance grabbed his towel from the wrack and started to dry off his hair and shoulders, trying to give his hands something to do, anything other than concentrating on the tension filling the room like the steam from the still running shower. 

“A _snake,_ Lance?  Your roommate.  Keeps a pet _snake?!_ ” Okay, apparently Nyma was angry.  Which is totally uncalled for as Cassie was a gem and would never hurt anyone, unless you were covered in dead mice, and Lance was very unsure why you ever would be. 

“Don’t worry!  Cas is totally safe!  She’s not even venomous!  I mean…she bit me once.  On the face.  But it was when we first met and Keith said it was ‘cause I was holding her wrong and was totally out of character for her.”

Nyma continued to stare at him, now as if he had grown a second head, water streaming down her face. 

“Lance,” she began, sounding calm but Lance was smart enough to understand the underlying tone of foreboding anger that was growing in her voice.  “Do you seriously just let a two metre long python run around your freaking apartment like some goddamn house cat?!”

Nyma wasn’t mad.  Nyma was livid.

“No!” Lance was quick to defend Keith’s beloved pet.  “Well…not usually?”  Lance stopped to think about it.  “Okay…kinda.  Yeah.  She somehow gets out of her cage a lot so we sort of just let her run wild.  But Keith will put her away if you ask, he’s amendable to not everyone being a snake person!  And I didn’t know you were coming back last night so I didn’t think to ask him to check if she had been put away!  But it’s not a problem!  Cassie will stay in her tank whenever you’re here!  Promise!”

There was a long pause.

“And she’s only one hundred and twenty-three centimtres, Keith is pretty insistent on not exaggerating her size.”

Nyma was now getting out of the shower, snatching the towel from around Lance’s head, wrapping it around herself and storming out in a huff.  Lance felt shame and embarrassment welling up in his chest as he reached over to shut off the water and follow her out of the bathroom.

Keith was sitting out on the balcony now, Cassie curled around his arm, happily enjoying the rays of the sun as Keith spoke to her in hushed tones.  Lance studied them as he walked past.

When Keith had first applied to be his roommate, Lance wasn’t too sure about the pet snake thing.  It wasn’t that he was against the animals at all, he just hadn’t had a lot of interaction with them.  He said as much over the phone, but Keith brought Cassie with him when he came to check out the place and introduced her to Lance, letting Lance hold her (which is when the face biting happened, but again, totally out of character for her) and explained her history and care. 

Keith had had Cassie since he was eleven years old.  She had been six months old at the time, an early birthday present from his brother.  Shiro had wanted Keith to start taking responsibly for his actions, always getting into fights at school, and nothing said taking responsibility quite like a pet snake (apparently, according to Shiro).  Keith had been ecstatic with his new pet though, reading every book on reptile care Shiro sent his way.  Keith even started doing odd jobs around the house so he could start paying for Cassie’s food and vet bills himself, desperately wanting to prove to his brother that giving him Cassie hadn’t been a mistake.

Lance had approved Keith’s application, thinking he was a cool dude and the snake was a good ice-breaker during parties when people asked why there was a box of dead mice in the freezer.  What really surprised him, however, was the bond Keith had with his snake.  It was almost terrifying, the way he held Cassie close pretty much every chance he had.  Usually, if Cassie wasn’t in her tank she was around Keith’s arm, or on his shoulders, or sliding over his lap on the couch.  He was always talking to Cassie as if she understood him too, and Lance, after a few weeks, was pretty damn sure she _could_ understand him.  Lance had seen with his own eyes how responsive Cassie was to Keith’s voice, and now he was certain Daniel Radcliffe had asked Keith for tips on speaking parseltongue for the Harry Potter movies.

Keith was adamant that snakes weren’t like dogs, they couldn’t be taught tricks or behaviours. (“No, Lance, I’m not going to train Cassie to fetch your slippers in the morning.  Go get the damn things yourself.” had been a popular argument in their apartment the first few weeks of Keith living there.)  Yet Keith could tell Cassie to ‘get out of the damn sink, I have dishes soaking in there’ and Cassie would slide out in the next few seconds.  Hell, Lance had heard Keith call Cassie when he got home and the snake had pretty much come running.  Well, slithering.  But you get the point.

“What?!  You’re leaving!?” Lance asked, stunned, as Nyma was already dressed by the time he reached his room.  She was now pulling her hand bag over her shoulder and wrapping her still damp hair into a messy bun.

 _Cute._ Lance thought.

“Yes.  I’m going home to shower in a _snake free environment._   And if you ever want to see me naked again, I suggest that thing better be either chained up or dead the next time I come over.”

With that statement, she stormed past him, Lance watching forlornly as she strutted out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.  Lance sighed.  All that time wooing her and now it was pretty much wasted.  Lance could cry. 

Keith shuffled into his doorway now, Cassie happily wrapped around his forearm.  Lance wondered if Cassie was secretly happy about this turn of events.  She looked it.  Could snakes even look smug?

“Sorry,” Keith mumbled, awkward as all hell.  Lance would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit pissed, but knew it wasn’t entirely Keith’s fault.  

“Hey man, don’t worry!  It was just an accident!  I’ll get her some flowers and go apologise later!  Totally not a big drama!”

Keith was still looking at him, a pained expression on his face, not knowing what to say next.  Lance almost found it comical.  Keith could talk about snakes and other reptiles until the sun went down and then came back up, but having an actual confrontation with another human being was way out of his talent spectrum.  Though he was getting better at it.

Lance had had to forcibly drag Keith out of his room one of the first weeks living there, to join him and his friends for a Super Smash Bros’ tournament. (“Hunk is sick and we can’t do ‘two-on-one’!  We need a fourth!  You’re our fourth!”) But after, Keith had slowly warmed up to Lance more and more.  It helped that Lance kept the conversations about Cassie at first, asking how she was or offering to go pick up her food if Keith was too busy that day, and slowly Keith showed interest in Lance’s life as well.  They slowly became friends.  Awkward friends, at the very best, friends who barely said two words to each other on a good day, but at least they were somewhat friends!

Okay.  Acquaintances. 

But they were making progress!  Lance didn’t really want this to set them back, either.  

Keith offered out his snake arm.

“Do you want to hold her?”

In Keith talk this was the equivalent of being offered a comforting hug, and one should consider themselves lucky to ever be asked such a question.

Lance chuckled.

“Nah!  You keep her.  I’m gonna change and then finish that French toast.  You want some?”

Keith nodded mutely and then shuffled away, probably to go finish drying Cassie off in the sun.

\---

Lance _did_ manage to patch things up with Nyma, asking her out on a real date this time.  Though it took a little begging.  Okay, a lot of begging, and a promise to be _absolutely certain_ that ‘that damned freak’ better be locked away when she came over.  Lance, thinking back on it, wasn’t sure if she was referring to Cassie or Keith.  Or maybe both.  

Keith was packing his book bag when Lance came out of the shower on the night of his date, smelling like too many lush products.

“Okay,” Keith was saying, “Cassie is happy and fed and in her tank.  I’m staying the night at Shiro’s in case you guys decide to get busy again.  I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

Lance nodded, thanking him and heading to his room to finish getting ready.

The date went well, so well in fact Nyma agreed to come home with him.  Albeit, a bit begrudgingly.  But hey, a successful night is a successful night!  Lance thought as much as he lay awake the next morning, happy, content, again, listening to the rustling in the kitchen.  Nyma, somewhat surprisingly, had offered to fix them breakfast.  She had promised toast with jam and instant coffee.  Not the masterpiece Lance had been willing to make her the first time she was over, but hey, not everyone has a best friend who is willing to teach them all the secrets of the kitchen, so it’s not like he could hold it over her head.

Lance thought about getting up to help, in fact he most definitely should. 

Then, disaster struck.

In hindsight, Lance wants to pinpoint this moment as the exact moment in time his entire life turned upside down in the space of just a few short seconds.  It turned out alright in the end.  Okay, it turned out great, actually, but getting there had taken a lot of hurdles, of the emotional kind, enough for Lance’s emotional legs to burn and scream in protest by the end of its run.

There was an ear-splitting scream, a crash, the sound of metal cracking down on something and then a very long silence.  Lance was already sitting bolt upright in bed, staring at his doorway hoping, praying, that whatever he had just heard was some kind of leftover hallucination from the wine he had drunk the night before.

And then:

“Lance!” Nyma all but screeched.  And damn, did she sound pissed.

Lance fell out of bed, kicking off his bedsheets and rushing into the kitchen.  What he saw was none other than a great big mess in his kitchen.  Nyma, wearing his shirt and not much else, standing in the middle of the kitchen with a pan over her shoulder still, red _all over_ his counter and wall, and a one hundred and twenty-three centimetre python lying limp in his kitchen sink.

“What.  Happened.”

It wasn’t a question.

Technically it was a question, it required an answer, but the way Lance said it made sure it wasn’t a question.

Nyma turned, at least having the gall to not look angry this time.

“I-it snuck up on me!  I forgot!  I just…reacted!” She was flailing the pan around, still dripping with something red.  Lance was hoping like all hell that was jam.

Lance, slowly, approached the kitchen sink.  He could feel the blood draining from his face.  His heart beating erratically in his chest. 

What Lance saw made him want to throw up.  Out of disgust.  Out of fear.  Out of absolute mortification. 

Cassie was lying across his kitchen sink, her head resting on the counter, probably soaking up the heat from the metal and the morning sun.  Sorry. _Had_ been soaking up the heat.  Now she lay very still, her skull crushed under what must have been a tremendous force (then again, Nyma played softball, Lance should’ve guessed) blood, not a lot, but enough, dripping from her mouth and nose. 

Casscada, Keith’s beloved spotted python, his only friend growing up, and probably the one thing Lance and him _kind of_ had in common, was dead.

“You.  Killed.  Her.” Lance could barely get the words out.  His hands were coming up to clutch his hair, his mouth hanging open.  “You killed her.  You killed her.  Youkilledher.  Youkilledheryoukilledheryoukilledher….”

“Lance!” Nyma shouted at him.

“You killed her, Nyma!” He turned at her now, throwing every hope he had of this becoming a recurring thing (the dates, not the dead snake) out the kitchen window, following Cassie’s soul up into the clouds.  “This is Keith’s constant source of comfort!  He’s had her since he was eleven!  His brother, who I’m pretty sure is entering the Navy any day now, gave her to him as a fucking birthday present!  And now she’s dead!?”

“Don’t yell at me!  This is not my fault!”  What an odd thing to say, considering she was now pointing the murder weapon at Lance’s face.  “I told you to keep that thing chained up when I’m over!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to _murder_ her!”

“It was self-defence!”

“From _what!?”_ Lance spluttered.  “From her doing what snakes naturally do?  From not being able to clean up?  Jesus, Nyma, if you wanted to wash the dishes that badly you could’ve just come and asked me to move her!”

“I just _said!_   I reacted!  I forgot that apparently snakes are a natural part of _your_ habitat!”

“You forgot that a two metre python _belongs_ here!?”

“You said one hundred and twenty..”

“Not the point, Nyma!!”

Things went quiet in the room, Lance trying to pull himself together long enough to figure out the next best course of action.  How was he supposed to tell all this to Keith?  Would he even believe that Nyma totally just didn’t have it out for his snake and decided to go on a murderous rampage?  It was Keith.  He would most definitely believe that.  He defended his snake before he defended himself.  There was no way in hell this was going to go well, in any way, shape or form.

Lance stalked out into the living room, throwing open the balcony door and leaning over the railing, trying not to throw up onto the sidewalk down below. 

Alright, Lance thought to himself, let’s take stock.  I have an angry, sort-of girlfriend, a dead snake, one roommate on his way home, and a lot of mess to clean up before he does get home.

Lance had been so sure this was probably his worst nightmare come to life, until a black SUV pulled up to the curb outside their apartment complex, and Keith hopped out.  _Now_ this was his worst nightmare come to life.  Lance started hyperventilating, watching as Keith talked with his brother over the passenger seat, nodding at him a few times before shutting the car door and turning around to head towards the entrance.

“Oh shit!” he headed back into the apartment, Nyma was standing there with her hands on her hips, now dressed to the full, shoes and make up included.  She looked pissed.  The nerve.

“Well, I’m gonna get going,” she started.

“Like hell you are!” Lance rounded on her.  Lance wanted ten seconds to ponder the rapid change in his attitude toward her.  Formerly trying his absolute best to be the perfect gentleman and show Nyma his sensitive side all the way over to ‘you are now, literally, my arch nemesis’, was quite a change in the span of one morning.  But Lance didn’t have ten seconds.  “Keith just got home!”

“Well, what do you want me to do?  I can’t bring back the dead, Lance!”

Lance took all of 3.78 seconds to come up with a plan.  It was a fantastically stupid plan but if he had any hope of keeping whatever relationship he had with Keith intact, it was now his only solution.

“This is what you’re gonna do,” Lance came forward, grabbing Nyma by the shoulders so she couldn’t turn tail and run.  “You’re going to go to the pet shop and get another spotted python.  Make sure it’s the same size, the same gender, the same goddamn _everything._   Then you’re going to race back here, put the new python in the tank in Keith’s room and we’re going to act like nothing ever happened.  Got it?”

Nyma looked at him like he had lost it.  Honestly, he felt like he had.

“Excuse you?  I’m not getting him a new snake!  I didn’t even like this one!”

Luckily, Lance had already formulated a response to this.  Lance liked to think he was above blackmailing, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and this was most definitely a desperate time. 

“Really?  Because when I tell Keith _you_ killed his twelve-year-old pet that he cherishes more than his own damn life, the first person he’ll call is his six foot tall, body-builder, firefighter, older brother who, by the way, is his only living relative and guardian, who will not take kindly to his baby brother in tears over what is possibly the most important gift he’s ever been given?  Do you really want Shiro coming over here to have a ‘talk’ with you about the importance of not murdering his precious baby brother’s beloved pets?” Lance was out of breath by the time this was all out.

“Shiro?  Like Takashi Shirogane?  _That’s_ Keith’s older brother?” Nyma was now looking incredulous.  Because like all females around here, Nyma probably wanted to impress Shiro like a peacock impresses its mate, all flirtatious and bodacious, polite and kind just like any other upstanding citizen should be, not a snake murderer.  Because sad fact of life kids, every guy is second to Takashi Shirogane. 

Lance realised Nyma hadn’t had the awkward falling out with Shiro most other females seemed to have when they first lay eyes on him, preferring to keep her distance until the perfect moment to strike, creating an elaborate plot to use a poor unsuspecting boy who just wanted a date with a pretty girl to make Shiro jealous at his own party, and resigning to going home with poor unsuspecting boy when that plan spectacularly failed. She hadn’t, Lance realised, inevitably been shot down in favour of Shiro’s roommate and already steady boyfriend, Matt, who he was totally smitten with.  

But she didn’t know that last part.   Not a lot of girls did. 

“Yes,” Lance simply said.  He could see her thinking it over, not even ashamed of the fact she was now clearly thinking of her chances with another man in front of the one she had just bedded last night, despite that man giving clear signals he wasn’t, and would never be, interested.  For someone who hates snakes, Lance thought, she sure shares a lot of similarities with them. 

“Because if I’m going down, I’m taking you with me,” he finished.  At this point, he didn’t even have time to ponder his own heartbreak.

Nyma puffed out her cheeks.

“Fine!” she shoved his arms away from her.  “What are _you_ going to do in the meantime then?”

Lance was already in his room at this point, pulling on jeans and a clean t-shirt, running a hand through his hair to flatten it and digging out his shoes from where he had kicked them under the bed last night. 

“I’m going to stop Keith from coming in and seeing the disaster in the kitchen.  I’m going to take him out.  I’m going to distract him until you can get the new snake.  Got it?”  He was now heading for the door, keys and wallet in hand.  “I’ll text you when we’re down the street and you can head over to the reptile shop.  I’ll send you the address.”

Lance could hear Nyma muttering at him as he pulled the apartment door shut behind him.  He only had to race down one flight of stairs before he met up with Keith, who looked startled to see him.

“Hey!” Lance started, one hand on the banister and the other on the wall, blocking Keith’s path.  “Hey, buddy!  How ya been?  How was your night?  Shiro doing okay?”

Keith was looking at him like he had _swallowed_ Cassie, rather than just taken place in her murder.

“Um…fine?” It came out a question. 

Lance just continued to stare at him, a crazed grin on his face.  There was a long silence as Keith tried to look anywhere but at Lance’s lunatic expression.

“And yours?” He asked politely.

“Oh, great!” Lance lied.  He hated lying.  His mother would be ashamed of him.  “So!  I had a thought last night!”

“Yeah, I don’t really wanna know what you were thinking about last night,” Keith interrupted, getting a pinched look on his face.

“What?” Lance took a moment to think this over.  “Oh!  That!  No!  Keith, buddy, please.  You’re hilarious.”  Lance now had his hand on Keith’s shoulder, patting it as he laughed at Keith’s apparent joke.  Keith looked like he wished he had never come home.

“I was thinking!  We don’t spend enough time with each other!  I mean, that’s totally my fault, but I really want to rectify that!  So, let’s go out today!  Just you and me!  Out on the town!  Two bros hitting it up bro style!”  Lance was just talking for the sake of talking now.

Keith was still looking at him with pure fear written on his features, though they slightly softened as he took in Lance’s offer.

“Um.  Okay.  Sure?” Keith said, unsure of how else to react to that flourish of words.  “What about Nyma?”

“Already left!”

“Oh…I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be!  Now you and I get more time together!”  Lance dropped the last few steps to Keith’s height, lugging an arm over his shoulders and pulling their bodies close together.  “Shall we?”

Keith mulled this over.

“Okay.  Can I go change first?”

Lance was surprised he stopped himself from screaming ‘no’ into Keith’s ear lobe.

“C’mon!  Time’s a-wasting!  Let’s get out of here!  Hey, if we leave now, the diner down the street might still be doing breakfast!  How does pancakes _and_ waffles sound?  My treat!”

“...it’s a twenty-four hour diner?  They do breakfast all day.”

“Yes, but it’s imperative we get there soon or the cooks will get sleepy and slack off and we won’t get the _good_ pancakes and waffles!”

“Is that a thing?”

“It most certainly is.”

Keith gave him one last look of concern, like he was about to ask if Lance had suddenly contracted some strange disease, or had suddenly become a druggie in the last twelve hours, but shrugged and nodded anyway, letting Lance pull him back down the stairs and out into the sun.

\---

Lance sent Nyma a quick text on the way to the diner, letting her know she was in the clear and they would be back in a few hours.  He never got a straight reply but the message was marked as seen, so that was good enough.

Keith seemed to enjoy being treated to so much food, and that’s when Lance found out Keith had a _massive_ appetite.  He was shovelling down the last of his waffles and moving onto his pancakes when Lance finally had to ask.

“So, did Shiro forget to feed you last night or something?” Lance was only half way through his own waffles.

“No?  Shiro fed me,” Keith stopped eating long enough to reply, a puzzled expression on his face.  Lance had to laugh.  It was slightly adorable.

“I just meant you’re eating a lot of food very fast for someone who has already eaten.”

“Oh, sorry,” Keith grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth clean of cream, now being careful to use a knife and fork delicately with his pancakes. 

“No, man, don’t be!  I come from a big family so if you didn’t eat fast, you didn’t eat at all!  I’m just surprised you could probably match me in a pie eating contest.  I’ve never seen anyone else eat like that.”

Keith gave him a small smile at the reassurance his table manners weren’t totally grotesque.

“I’m not usually like this, it’s just when I have good food.  Growing up we didn’t have a lot of money or time, so on the odd occasion we did get to go out and eat at a restaurant, or even make something as lavish as pancakes, I’d scorf it down just ‘cause it tasted so…different.  So good.”

Lance nodded at Keith’s story, taking a sip of his milkshake.

“I never heard much about how you grew up.  Was it hard?  With just Shiro, I mean?”

Keith was staring at his pancakes, seemingly thinking about how to answer Lance’s question.

“It was hard in the sense that it was difficult,” Keith started slowly.  “Shiro was always working to support us, because our foster mum was a huge bitch and would only let us have the bare necessities.  Old clothes, already worn down shoes, books that were falling apart.  Shiro just wanted to give me more.  I think he always felt bad I had to grow up without a real mum, considering he remembers her and I don’t.”

Lance was silent through this.  To be honest, this was the most Keith had ever spoken in one go since they had met.  He didn’t want to spoil it.

“When Shiro turned eighteen he got full custody of me and we high-tailed it out of there.  I don’t even think we even said good-bye to our foster mum, I can’t even remember her name.  Shiro got a job in the city and this beat-up, run-down, old apartment that always made noise.  But I can remember we were so much happier there then we ever were at the other place.  We just had each other.  I remember telling him, when I was older and could string deeper thoughts together, that he was all I ever wanted.  I didn’t need fancy clothes and new books to be happy.  But Shiro is Shiro.”

Lance nodded at that.  He had only met Shiro a handful of times.  Once, when he was helping Keith move in, again when Keith got into a fist fight at a bar and had to be driven home from the hospital, and once more when Keith was sick.  Shiro had stayed the whole week that time, not leaving his brothers side as he helped him eat in bed and forced him to rest instead of going to work, paying for his rent and groceries so Keith could concentrate solely on recovering.  To say they were close was an understatement, to say they were attached at the hip was only barely scraping the surface.

Lance loved all his siblings but he had never been as close to any of them as Keith was to Shiro.  It was like looking into another world every time he saw them interact, a world he wasn’t really privy on being a part of.

“And then he got me Cassie!” Lance choked on his mouthful of pancake, trying to swallow it through the sudden reminder of why they were even here, having this conversation.

“Right.  Cassie.  Yeah.”

“I think it was Shiro’s last ditch effort to spoil me before he concentrated on just keeping us alive.  One thing he could give me before I would be old enough to afford things myself.  Don’t get me wrong, he still bought me anything I needed, but Cassie was like a huge present.  A thousand birthdays wrapped up into one.  I almost named her after him.”

Lance wanted to burst into tears.  He had known Cassie was an important present from Keith’s brother but _this_ was totally unexpected.

“Why Cascada?” Lance found himself asking, probably because he had always wanted to ask why an eleven year old would name a snake after a pop star of all things.

“Well, Shiro wouldn’t let me name her after him, something about it getting too confusing when I started talking to her, so I named her after the artist of his favourite song.”

Lance lost it.  He didn’t mean to laugh, so long and so loud at that little fact, one that was probably very private and a huge sign of trust for Keith to share, but he did.  Keith, surprisingly, only grinned at Lance as he collected himself from banging his fist on the table.

“Shiro-” another giggle escaped Lance’s lips, “Shiro’s favourite song is _Every Time We Touch?_ Seriously?”

“At the time, yeah.  He looks like he’s all Nirvana and Metallica.  But he’s Britney and Taylor all the way.”

Lance lost it again.  Keith giggled along with him.  At least he could see the humour in that.

It was then that Lance’s phone went off in his pocket.  Lance took a look at the ID, seeing Nyma’s number pop up on the screen.  He bit his lip.

“Hang on,” he said to Keith, starting to shuffle out of the booth.  “I’m gonna take this.  Order us another round of milkshakes, I’ll be right back.” 

Keith nodded as Lance headed out onto the street.

“Did you get it?” Lance immediately asked upon answering.

“Do you have _any_ idea how much a fully-grown snake costs!?” Was Nyma’s reply.  So that was a resounding no.

“No?  How much?”

“Three hundred dollars!”

Lance smacked his palm over his face.  How did he not think of cost?  Snakes were exotic pets, of course they didn’t come cheap.  It’s not like he was replacing a child’s dead goldfish here.

Lance could only groan and sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s fine.  Just pay the guy and I’ll pay half when you get back,” Lance said, throwing away his dream of owning that new game he had been saving for.  Then again, Lance killed Keith’s pet.  He should be throwing away all his dreams right now, but he should’ve known Nyma would have something to say about this.

“What!?” Her voice was shrill in his ear, forcing him to hold it away from his face for a moment.  When he brought it back, she was on a rampage.

“-hooking up with some loser would result in putting _me_ out of pocket one hundred and fifty dollars?!  I don’t think so!  I’m not paying that much for an elongated lizard with no legs!”

“You should be paying for _all_ of it considering you’re the reason we’re in this mess!” Lance was getting sick of Nyma’s spoiled little rich girl act fast.  He had, somehow, thought it was endearing when he was treating her to expensive restaurants and buying extravagant flowers for her, but now he was starting to see she was meeting the stereotypical sorority girl image he had been trying to ignore.  Hindsight is a blessed thing.

“This is ridiculous!  It’s just a snake!  Can’t we just tell him what happened?  I’ll paint me as the villian if it makes you feel better.”

“You _are_ the villian!”

Besides, no matter what that would _never_ go over well.  Lance knew now more than ever that Cassie hadn’t been ‘just a snake’, but basically a living symbol of how important Shiro was to Keith.  If he could put their love for each other in the palm of his hand, or around his neck, it would be shaped exactly like Cassie.

“Fine!  Just buy it and I’ll pay you back.  In full!”  Lance hung up, flustered and angry and already exhausted.  It was only eleven o’clock.

He walked back into the diner after taking a moment to calm himself down, smiling at Keith and taking the milkshake he had ordered and skulling half of it in one go, effectively giving himself a brain freeze.  Keith shouted suggestions at him while patting his hair, none of them working.  Lance just had to wait until the pain went away.

\---

Thirty minutes later and Lance and Keith exited the diner.  Lance shot a quick text to Nyma, asking if she had come back yet with the replacement snake, to which she decided to call him again.  Lance gave Keith another apology and walked a little distance to take the call.

“What?” his impatience was showing now.  It had been a long morning.

“Did you know that, in order to buy a reptile, you need some kind of special license?” Lance was learning very fast there was a lot he didn’t know about buying reptiles.

“No?”

“Well, you do.  The guy said he wouldn’t sell it to me unless I can give him my license, and apparently, he didn’t mean my driver’s license!”

Lance almost choked on the vomit that threatened to come out of his throat.  They didn’t even know anybody else with a reptile license they could ask to get the snake for them, and they certainly couldn’t ask Keith.  Lance bit into his fingers, trying hard to come up with a solution. 

“Put the guy on the phone,” he quickly said.  Nyma didn’t even reply, a rustling coming until a deep and unfamiliar voice sounded on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Hey, hi!  How are you?” Lance tried to be cheerful and easy-going.

“Look man, I can’t sell this chick the snake without a license.  It’s just the law,” he immediately replied.  Straight to the point then.

“No, I know.  And I would never ask you to break the law.  But you see, this snake isn’t for her, it isn’t even for me, it’s for my friend.  His last snake just died and he’s been inconsolable for the past few weeks.  We thought we’d just do a nice thing and get him a new one!  He’s fully licensed and had his last snake for like, twelve years, so he’s totally capable of keeping it healthy and happy!  Scout’s honour!” It was a small white lie, but if Lance didn’t get this snake, it may as well be true.

 “Dude, I’m no therapist, but I don’t think shoving him head-long into a relationship with a new pet is the best way to help him get over his old one, ya know?”

Why was everyone trying his patience today?

“No, no, I totally understand! But he’s getting better now, I swear!  It’s his birthday tomorrow, c’mon!  You’re obviously a snake lover yourself!  You must know how it feels to lose your best friend like that.  And so close to his birthday of all days!”

More lies.  Lance will just go ahead and disown himself from the McClain clan now.

“I haven’t been alive long enough to have a snake die in my care.  They live for like thirty years, bro.”

Lance wanted to scream, but screaming wouldn’t get him that snake.

“Please.” He tried begging instead.  “Please man!”

The guy on the other end was obviously mulling everything over, a long pause following this.

Lance was almost tempted to get Nyma back on and get her to flash him.  That would do it.

“Okay, look, if you can get me your friends’ license, I can take down the number and you can take the snake home then.  Okay?”

Lance let out a sigh of relief.  He didn’t even know where Keith kept his license but it was better than a big, fat ‘no’.

“Sure, okay, great!  Thank you!”

The guy said good bye than handed the phone back to Nyma.

“Where are we gonna get snakeboy’s license, huh?  Did you think about that?”

“Go back to my place, theirs a spare key under the door mat, have a look around his room and see if you can find it.”

“I have to go _back_ to your apartment?  This place was like forty minutes out of the way to begin with!”

“Just do it, Nyma!  I’m still keeping Keith busy.”

He hung up.  Again, having to calm his breathing down before he could return to Keith.  Now he needed to go somewhere they could kill over an hour of time.  An obvious choice would be the movies, but Lance needed to be able to keep in touch with Nyma at a moment’s notice.  As he walked back to his roommate, he had a quick brain storming session before hitting what was probably the perfect answer.

“Yo, Keith!” Keith looked up from where he had been picking at his nails, a nasty habit Lance had been meaning to get him to kick.  “Let’s head to the arcade!  It’s early so there won’t be any kids there!”

Keith nodded, happy for their next destination.  Lance led the way further down the street.

\---

Lance was right, the arcade wasn’t too busy, leaving Keith and Lance to go crazy on any of the rides and games they wanted.  They started with air hockey, which Lance scraped through with a win, then moved to DDR, which Keith had never even heard of before today but somehow could match Lance no problem (“I don’t understand why you had so much trouble?  You just follow the steps?”).  The pinball machine was both their specialties, so had an all-out war for close to twenty minutes before deciding it was a draw (more for the safety of the machine itself than any kind of sportsmanship). 

Keith was currently miles ahead on the motor bike racing game, Lance having trouble with the turns and throwing his weight into it like Keith was doing. 

“Do you ride a motorbike or something?” Lance panted, missing another turn and watching his character crash into the tire wall.

“No,” he answered simply.  “I always wanted to but Shiro wouldn’t let me.  Actually, Shiro was the only thing keeping me from becoming a full-blown degenerate before the age of twenty.”  Lance laughed at that.

Keith watched Lance crash _again_ before giving up on his own side of the race and hopping onto the back of Lance’s bike instead.

“What are you doing?” Lance asked quickly, Keith’s body pressing flush to his back, his arms coming around him to take the handlebars, meaning he had to rest his chin on Lance’s shoulder so he could see.  Lance could feel himself turn bright red.  Keith’s hot breath fanning his cheek, Lance’s pulse picking up as Keith put his hands over Lance’s.

“I’m sick of seeing you eat asphalt,” Keith said, his voice even deeper and rougher in Lance’s ear.  Lance gulped.

Despite the initial embarrassment, Lance got used to Keith’s warmth pretty quickly, and with Keith’s expertise and a little help from Lance (read: very minimal, barely existent), they managed to come in second despite Lance’s slow start.  Keith’s bike came last, forgotten somewhere back along the track.  Lance wooped, turning to give Keith a high-five. 

“Awesome!  That’s the highest score I’ve gotten on this game so far!”

“Really?  I never would have guessed.” 

Lance jabbed Keith lightly in the ribs with his elbow, turning so he was sitting sideways on the bike and could face Keith properly.

“Okay, ass, let’s find a game _you’re_ horrible at!” Keith just grinned at him.  One that reached his violet eyes and made his cheeks go rosy under the mess of cowlicks that licked at his skin.  Lance’s heart stopped.

_What the fuck._

“What about hoops?” Keith suggested.  Lance shook the gay thoughts from his head before looking over at the basketball rings set up on the far wall.

“Now, do you actually suck at them or are you just saying that so you can embarrass me again?”

Keith just continued to grin cutely at him before sliding off the bike.

“I guess you’ll find out.”

Lance clutched his chest as Keith walked away.

_What the actual loving fuck._

As Lance headed to catch up, he felt his phone go off in his pocket.  He pulled it out to see a text from Nyma.

**From: Babe~ <3  
_I can’t fucking find it._**

How eloquent, Lance thought to himself.  Another text came in.

**From: Babe~ <3  
_What if he has it on him?_**

Lance grimaced.  That could be the second worst thing to happen today.  Besides Cassie’s actual demise.

**To: Babe~ <3  
_Well I very well can’t ask him?  Can I??? Just keep looking!_**

Not very sound advice but Lance couldn’t think of much else.  Nyma sent him a middle finger emoji in reply. 

Keith had already slotted in the tokens for the game when Lance got over to him.

“Everything okay?” He asked, watching the basketballs roll down the hill to where he could start shooting.

“Yeah!  Everything’s good!” Lance quickly amended, taking up his own spot at the net next to Keith.

Keith _wasn’t_ good at basketball, thought he wasn’t horrible either.  He missed most of the time but managed to get a few points in at the end once he had gotten the hang of it.  Lance just kept increasing his score, totally intent on showing Keith he ruled at least one of the games in here.

When it ended, Lance pounded his chest like King Kong, announcing to the rest of the arcade he was the raining basketball champ.  Keith just gave him another one of those cheeky grins before slotting in more tokens.

“Rematch!” He declared. 

Except this time Keith was pulling off his sweater, to reveal a tank top underneath, one of the ones that didn’t actually fit so Lance caught a glimpse of his chest from the side.  Now there was a whole lot more of Keith on display, his arm muscles flexing as he picked up a ball and started to shoot.  Lance was too distracted to do the same, realising for the first time that Keith’s messy, dark hair against his ivory skin was probably the prettiest thing he had seen on a guy in a long time.  How his arms moved and flexed, skinny but still had enough muscle on them to make Keith seem broad, shoulders bunching and releasing as he shot ball after ball.  Or those pecs?  Every time Keith jumped slightly Lance could see them peak out from under his tank top, leaving not much to the imagination of what Keith would look like shirtless. 

_Oh shit, he’s hot._

“Hey McClain!” Keith barged in through Lance’s perverse thoughts. “I’m creaming your ass!”

_That’s okay, you can totally cream my ass._

Lance snapped back to reality, ten seconds on the timer and Keith clearly in the lead.  Lance panicked, throwing some balls at his own hoop, missing every time but too flustered to aim properly.  The timer sounded and Keith danced happily in place, which was totally worth losing to see.

Keith was cute when he’s happy, letting that brooding, socially-awkward guy behind in light of someone who genuinely knew how to have a good time. 

Lance’s heart clenched at the thought of what was lying back in their apartment, of what could potentially bring down that good, happy Keith forever. 

His phone buzzed. 

**From: Satan  
_Found it.  Was on his computer of all things._**

Lance wasn’t sure he wanted to know how Nyma manage to hack into Keith’s computer, but he also wasn’t complaining. 

“Oh c’mon!” Lance looked up from his phone, Keith glaring at the phone in Lance’s hands, then switching to Lance’s face, which must have looked pinched or worried.  “It’s no fun if I beat you ‘cause you were so distracted by your girlfriend!”

Lance huffed.

“Not even!  You just got lucky!” Lance shoved his phone back into his pocket, resigning not to look at it so much.  If Keith found out he’d been texting Nyma this whole time, he’d probably not only be pretty offended, but also pretty suspicious.  “And she’s not my girlfriend.”

Keith stopped glaring, a pained expression morphing onto his features instead.

“Oh.”  It went awkward.  Lance should’ve bitten his tongue.  “Sorry, man.  I know you liked her.”

Lance just scratched the back of his head and gave Keith a grin.

“Hey, it’s all good!  She just wasn’t for me!”  Or for anyone human for that matter.

Keith nodded, not sure what to say.

“Did something happen?” Keith picked up his sweater from the floor, pulling it back over his head.

_Thank God._

“You could say that,” Lance answered mildly.  He then saw flashing neon lights behind Keith’s head, noticing the crane machines for the first time, a great idea flashing behind his eyeballs.  “C’mon!  I know what we can do next!”

Lance grabbed Keith’s hand and pulled him in the direction of the machines.  The machines took real coins, not tokens, so Lance had to exchange a twenty before meeting Keith back at the one that held all the stuffed bears and stuffed…things.  He couldn’t tell what half of these animals were.

“Pick a prize!  Any prize!” Lance said in his best impression of a ring master.  Keith looked into the glass case, puzzling over what out of all this he could possibly want, or couldn’t buy for himself for less than what it would probably take to win one. 

“Uh…that weird blue thing?  In the corner.”

Keith pointed it out, and Lance set his sight on it, shoving coins into the machine and starting up the game.

It took all of the coins he had plus whatever he could find in his pockets, and another twenty exchanged at the counter, but Lance did win Keith something.  It wasn’t the weird blue thing, Lance couldn’t figure out how to move everything else out of the way to get to it, but it was bright pink and had bulging purple eyes, and was full of beans.  Lance lobbed the toy at Keith.

“Look, it’s a self-portrait!” Lance joked, punching Keith in the arm lightly as pale fingers squeezed the new toy.  Keith smiled at him and Lance felt all the blood rush to his face, _again._   Lord, what this boy could do to him.

“Damn,” Keith said, pushing some of his hair out of his eyes.  “I was gonna name the blue one after you.”

Lance’s grin fell.  It was such a stupid joke yet Keith had single-handedly rendered his entire thought process useless. 

“Oh…you didn’t…have to…” Lance began.  Keith snickered at him.

“Oh my god, I was joking!” Keith returned the punch, slightly harder though.

Lance let out a weak laugh at that, looking back over at the blue thing still smashed into the corner of the machine.  Maybe he could come back and win it later.

“You know this thing probably costs, like, fifty cents?  You just spent over thirty dollars winning it.”

Lance forced the smile back on his face.

“Yeah, but what’s the fun in that!  Saying ‘Lance spent fifty cents on this stuffed thing for me, what a nice dude’ is _so not_ the same as ‘Lance battled valiantly for this just to win my heart!  I think I’ve fallen in love with him!’”

Keith let out a snort, holding the toy up to hide his face, though Lance could see his ears turning red, even under the flashing lights of the machines around them.

“You’re right,” Keith was grinning from ear to ear as he looked back up at Lance.  “Thank you so much for going to war for me, Lance.  My prize; a fuzzy, stuffed…thing!”

“If you must know, for naming purposes of course, my favourite pop star is Hannah Montanna.”

“She’s a _fictional_ pop star!”

“Her spirit is real, Keith!”

They ended up leaving the arcade, clutching their stomachs as they mocked the toy back and forth, though Keith still kept it firmly clutched in his hands as they walked toward the ice cream place.  Keith ordered a coffee ice cream sundae with extra nuts and fudge, but Lance politely declined the server when asked for his order.  He had just been set back three hundred dollars plus the price of a rather expensive stuffed toy.  He couldn’t really afford ice cream at this point.

“Don’t want anything?” Keith asked him as they sat down at a table near the window.

“Just…not in the mood.”  Which wasn’t true.  Lance was actually starving, and in truth, that sundae looked really good.  But if he said he couldn’t afford it Keith would assume it was because of the toy and feel bad. 

“Okay.  But if you change your mind, mine is free rain,” Keith set a second spoon down in front of Lance.  Lance looked at it, wondering where Keith had procured the utensil from, but picked it up and took a small portion of the sundae.  Which turned into a second small portion, and a third and pretty soon they were no longer small portions.

The fought over the chocolate chips and the nuts and which nut-to-fudge-to-ice-cream ratio was correct.  They tried to build snowmen out of the goop before it could melt but failed fashionably.  Though Lance decided the gross mound of ice-cream with nuts for eyes shared a startling resemblance to his English poetry professor who always seemed to be giving him a hard time.

“I swear, it’s because he overheard me telling Hunk I’d let Chris Hemsworth bang me over Scarlet Johanson.  Now he knows I’m bi and _I’m suffering for it!_ ”

“What an asshole!” Keith was yelling, banging his fist on the table, high on sugar.  “If I ever see him, I’ll shove this snowman up his ass!”

 “Wouldn’t it melt?”

“No, because he’s probably a frigid bitch.  It would freeze instantly.”

Lance started laughing so loud the manager of the shop had to shush him.

“Thanks, man!  That makes me feel so much better.”

“Hey, us gays have gotta stick together.” Keith said this so casually, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear and scooping the snowman’s head off before stuffing it into his mouth, but it pulled Lance up short.

_Well that answers that question._

“You sure you wanna give this up?” Lance was referring to the last parts of the sundae, which was nothing more than a pool of melted ice cream mixed with what was left of the fudge.  “This is the best part!”

“Ew, no!  I hate melted ice-cream!” 

“You heathen!” Lance flicked his spoon at him, a little ice cream landing on the corner of Keith’s mouth.  Keith’s tongue darted out to lick at it.

Lance blushed furiously.

“Yes.  I am the worst.  The absolute sinner.  Take me to church so I may repent for my sins!” Keith cried dramatically.

“Oh, I’ll take you, ya filthy sinner!”

“At least buy me dinner first.”

“I won you a stuffed animal!  That has to equate to dinner!”

“Nope!  Not my fault your totally inept at a child’s game.”

Lance kicked Keith’s foot under the table, to which Keith did the same to him, which turned into a footsie war until they caught the manager of the store looking at them funny and they had to leave.

The sun was setting along the horizon as they exited the store.  They really had spent the whole day together. 

“Wanna go for a walk before heading back?” Keith asked, nodding towards the entrance to a park.  Lance agreed, feeling the exact same as Keith did.  He didn’t want this to end.

This day had gone by so fast, in a flurry of dead animals and sad backstories and cute arcade dates to bonding over ice-cream snowmen.  It had been a weird day, but Lance couldn’t remember the last time he had had this much fun without booze involved.  He hadn’t expected to click with Keith so easily, or so quickly.  He hadn’t expected for them to have so much fun together.

The park was quiet save for the summer bugs coming out, which Keith flinched at whenever one started to come near them.

“You’ve wrangled snakes since you were eleven but a little bug renders Keith Kogane petrified?  Amazing.”

Keith winced as another one went flying past his face.

“They’re not little!” Keith whined.  “And snakes don’t fly in weird, unpredictable patterns!”

Lance just laughed, letting Keith hide behind him when any of them got too close.  He relaxed greatly when they hit the centre of the park, the pathways becoming too wide for the bugs to want to venture over.  The streetlights turned on, bathing them both in a warm light as they walked at a steady pace beside each other.

“Hey, Lance,” Keith broke the silence.  Lance hummed in acknowledgement.  When he didn’t say anything else, Lance looked over to Keith to see him fiddling with his stuffed toy (which they had named Katy, after a long debate of which pop stars were worthy of being named after).  Lance waited patiently for Keith to talk.

“Thanks.  For today.”  Lance hadn’t been expecting that.  “I was really nervous when I first moved out of Shiro’s place, and wasn’t sure if I could make it on my own.  But I also really wanted to give it a try, especially ‘cause Shiro was getting so close to Matt and they obviously wanted more privacy.  I looked at so many apartments but none of them liked that I had a snake.  So when I found you and you didn’t mind Cassie so much, I was really relieved.”

Lance could feel that dreaded feeling welling back up his throat.  That sick sense of guilt he knew he’d never be able to shake.  This day, this fun, amazing, blissful day was tainted with blood and Lance would always look at it differently to how Keith did.  He felt sick.

“It just,” Keith looked at Lance now, his eyes appearing a bright shade of amber under the park lights, his face honest and soft.  Lance wanted to cry.  “It means a lot to me that you wanted to get to know me.  And made the transition so easy.  I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with.  I mean I’d rather talk to a snake than talk to people.  But you know, thanks.  Just.  Thanks.”

“Hey, don’t mention it.” Lance managed to get out.  Keith smiled at him, all rounds cheeks and soft hair and bright eyes. 

One of the bugs chose that moment to fly right at Keith’s face and into his hair, getting tangled in the long strands and buzzing loudly next to Keith’s ear.  Keith all but screeched, grabbing Lance’s arm in a vice grip and swatting at it with his other, trying to get it out but only seeming to squish it in his hair further.  Lance was trying to hold back a laugh as best he could.

“It’s not fucking funny, Lance!” Keith was screaming, his shoulders up next to his ears now as he tried to curl away from the bug in disgust.  Lance just chuckled again.

“Well, if you let me go I can help!”

Keith carefully released Lance’s arm, whining as the bug dug further into his hair.  Lance stepped closer, cupping Keith’s jaw and tilting his head to the side so he could get a closer look, then taking a firm grip on the bug and carefully extracting it from Keith’s hair.  It buzzed helplessly in his fist for a moment before Lance chucked it away from where they stood, watching it bob drunkenly back to the grass.

“There,” Lance turned his face back to Keith, and effectively had the breath knocked out of him by the sight.  Keith’s face was still being held gently in his hand, still tilted into the touch.  His skin was smooth under Lance’s finger tips and his hair was so soft against the back of his hand.  Keith’s eyes were on fire, a burning amber under the street lamps. 

Keith’s eyes weren’t on his though, they were further down, gazing at his lips, before making their way back up Lance’s face to his eyes.  Lance swallowed thickly, Keith did too.  He could feel it.

“So…” Keith spoke, barely a whisper.  “Nyma?”

“History.”  Lance didn’t even hesitate.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.”

And then they were kissing.

Keith closed the gap between them, sliding their lips together and putting his hands delicately on Lance’s hips, tilting his head even more so he could get the best angle as he nibbled on Lance’s bottom lip.  Lance hummed, breathing through his nose as he cupped both sides of Keith’s face now, holding it firmly as they opened their mouths to let each other in.

As far as first kisses go, it was slightly too wet for Lance’s liking, but God if he didn’t want a repeat.  Again and again.

Keith shuffled closer, winding his arms around Lance completely and pulling their hips together, Lance returning the favour by sucking deeply on Keith’s tongue.  Keith whimpered, shifting his head slightly to lick at the roof of Lance’s mouth, his tongue piercing sending thrills up his spine.

They parted a few moment later, panting hard, a string of saliva connecting their lips.  Keith’s tongue darted out to break it, gazing up at Lance, his eyes now scorching. 

They made their way back to the apartment slowly, hand in hand, Lance stopping Keith every now and then to kiss his cheek or his ear or just to run his hand through Keith’s soft hair.  So soft.  And he didn’t use any conditioner at all.  Just hot water and shampoo when it got excessively greasy.

Nyma had texted him earlier saying she had put the new snake in the tank and expected the money in her account by tomorrow, ‘plus tip’ for all the handling and trouble.  Lance sent her a well-deserved middle finger emoji in reply.

They entered the apartment complex just after seven.  Nyma was coming down the stairs as they got to the last landing before their door.  Keith gave Lance a nod before heading up ahead of him, probably not wanting to be privy to whatever they had to say to each other.

“Alright, snakes in the tank, I smell like reptile, I’m going home.  Don’t call me,” Nyma had a threatening gleam in her eyes, poking a perfectly manicured finger into Lance’s chest as she listed off these points. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Lance snarled back, thankful she was leaving and would be out of his life.

Until a sudden thought entered his head.

“Wait!  What did you do with Cassie?  With the dead snake?” Lance called after her.  Nyma turned to give him a look that said ‘I’m so done’.  Lance hoped his own look said ‘don’t worry, me too’.

“Threw it down the trash shoot.” 

Lance had been taught never to hit a lady, but boy, was Nyma testing his moral compass.

“Couldn’t you have just put it in my room?!  That’s a little insensitive, don’t you think!?”

“Isn’t replacing your roommates dead snake with a replacement without telling him is a little insensitive?” she quipped back.  He didn’t even get time to reply before a very loud call of his name came from his apartment above them. 

“Good luck,” she sang at him, almost smug as she turned and ran down the rest of the stairs.  Lance was so sorry he ever spent time on her, spent _anything_ on her.  Hell, he was sorry he had slept with her and Lance didn’t regret sex easily.

“Lance!” Keith shouted again, and Lance couldn’t tell whether he was angry or livid.  Lance considered running now, just bolting for the border and seeing how far he could get. 

But Nyma was right.  What she had done was horrible, but in some twist, what he had done was even more so.  Keith would’ve been heartbroken to find out about Cassie’s death, and probably blamed himself, but at least Lance would still have an honest reputation.  Now he was sullied with all kinds of sin. 

He regrettably walked up the stairs, Keith almost barrelling into him in the doorway of their apartment.

“Where’s Cassie!?” Keith was definitely angry.  Murderous even.  How did he even find out so fast?

“What do you mean?” Lance tried to play innocent.  “She’s in her tank?  Where you left her?  Right?”

“I don’t know whose snake that is but it certainly isn’t Cassie!  What did that bitch do to her?!”

Keith was more observant than Lance ever gave him credit for.

“Okay, Keith, don’t get mad,” he held out his palms, trying to calm the fire down before it turned into a re-enactment of the Hiroshima bombing.

“Don’t get mad?!  My snake is missing!  Where is she, Lance!?”  Keith stormed away, Lance having no choice but to follow.  When they got into Keith’s room, even Lance could tell that the snake now nestled in the large tank was most definitely not Cassie.  Nyma had put no effort into picking a snake that was even remotely similar.  This one was gold with patches of reddish brown dotting it’s body, it’s eyes a gleaming yellow where Lance had always admired Cassie’s more greenish tinted irises.

“What are you talking about?  That’s totally Cassie,” Lance tried, in vain, to joke a little.  Maybe take the edge off the anger now coming off Keith in radiating waves.  No such luck.  Keith was glaring, not just daggers, but lightning storms and flaming balls of magma shot from catapaults, all at Lance.  Lance wanted that soft look back.  The one he had seen in the park, where Keith’s eyes had been lit with a soft admiration, maybe a little longing, but were so much happier. 

“Lance.”  Shit.  “Where.  Is.  My.  Snake.”

Keith was good at that whole ‘this is technically a question but I’m going to make it sound like it isn’t so you have to give me the truth’ thing. 

“Okay, well.  I think Cassie got out last night-“

“How?!”

“-and she was in the kitchen this morning when Nyma saw her and sought of freaked-“

“Oh my God.”

“-and she just thought it would maybe be a kind of good idea, not that it actually was, but she-“

“Lance!”

“-smashed her head in with a frying pan.”

The last bit came out in a huge rush, Lance’s eyes shut tight so he wouldn’t have to see the look of pure horror now, most definitely, adorning Keith’s thin features.  Lance was trying to conjure that image of a smiling Keith in his head, the one where his grin stretched wide over his face and made his almond-shaped eyes squint at him under a mess of black hair.  He was sure he would never be seeing it again.

Lance, slowly, opened his eyes, the left one first, than the right, taking in Keith’s reaction slowly.  The anger on his face had dissipated, now just replaced with total bewilderment.

The silence that followed, however, was deafening.

It seemed to stretch on for hours as Keith continued to look at him with that abject fear in his eyes, the fear of all this being true and not some horrible elaborate prank Lance had conjured up to pick on him.  Lance’s stomach was churning, bile rising in his throat as the guilt from this morning caught up to him all at once, washing over him in a huge wave and making him want to run to the bathroom to throw up.  He got the feeling he probably shouldn’t leave the room, though.

And then the silence broke, and Keith reacted in a way Lance didn’t even see coming.  Keith grabbed his hair in large clutches, letting out a pained wail so loud Lance had to jump back a bit, watching as Keith slowly lowered himself to the floor and continued screaming into the floor boards.  Sorry, downstairs neighbours.

“I’m so, _so_ sorry, Keith!” Lance could only say, reaching to put a hand on Keith’s back, which was now heaving as Keith tried in vain to contain his broken-hearted sobs.  Keith slapped his arm away. 

“What the fuck!?” Keith’s voice was thick with tears and mortification, his head still resting between his crouched knees.  “What the actual loving fuck!!”

Lance wasn’t sure what to do.  No words would make this better, or hide what he had done.

“Nyma is really sorry, too!” Oh good.  More lies.  As if this day hadn’t already been coated in enough moral crimes.  “And we pitched in to get you a new one!  It doesn’t have the same markings or anything but-“

“It’s not even the same _breed_ , Lance!”

Oh.  Wow, Nyma had really thrown him under the bus with this one.

Keith shot up, so fast he almost knocked his head on Lance’s chin where he had been leaning cautiously over Keith’s form.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice!?”  Lance was on the verge of tears too, even though he knew he had no right to be the one upset right now.  “Even if, in some other universe, you had managed to sneak in a snake that was the same breed and had the same markings and was the same length and the same fucking _gender,_ did you really think I wouldn’t notice it wasn’t Cassie!”

“I was…just trying to soften the blow…”

“No!  You were just trying to cover your ass!” Keith: hammer.  Lance: nail.  “You just thought you’d take your quiet, socially awkward roommate out for a day of fun, fuck with his feelings and then send him home as if none of it had ever happened!  As if I was _stupid_ enough not to realise my snake had been replaced with a whole new one!  Then laugh about at me behind my back with your bitch of a girlfriend!”

“What?! No!  That’s not what this was about!”

“Bullshit!”

Lance had to take a deep, shuddering breath.  God, they must have looked like a mess right now.  Both boys gesturing madly at a python, tears streaming down their faces.  Keith’s hair was sticking up at odd angles where he had clutched it before, and Lance was about to rip holes in his jacket where he had been grabbing at it so hard.

“I loved spending time with you today, Keith!  I promise!  Yes, at first it was to keep you out of the apartment long enough for us to switch the snakes but I swear to you I loved every second of it!  I really wanted us to become better friends!  Even more than that!  Nothing about today was a lie!”

“The whole thing was a lie!” Keith was shaking as he pointed a finger so close to Lance’s face he had to go cross-eyed to see it.  “Here’s a tip! If you wanted to become closer with me, don’t murder my snake, and then fucking _lie_ about it after!”

Keith began storming out and Lance couldn’t even bring himself to stop him.  He was lucky he hadn’t been punched, but then Keith stopped in the doorway of his room, hackles raised as he turned slowly toward Lance.

“Where is she?” he was hissing now, spitting.  If this were any other situation and that anger wasn’t aimed at him, Lance would find it comical he looked so much like a cat denied his dinner.  But this was now and that face was definitely directed at him.

“Who?” Lance should really stop trying to play dumb; this situation was already just short of becoming a second murder in the apartment today.

“Where did you put my snake, Lance?  Her dead body.  Where is it?”

Lance gulped.

“Nyma…may have…put her in the…trash…”

Lance was staring holes into the floor at this point.  There was another long, deafening pause where Lance wished he could just drop dead, then the sound of heavy footsteps and the bathroom door opening and slamming shut.  Lance winced at the sound, wondering if he was allowed to break down and cry now.

He did.

\---

Lance stayed firmly in his room all that night and most of the next day.  He only got up to get the door when there was a knock, thinking it was Nyma, here to demand her money, only to find a much larger build taking up most of his doorway.  Lance feared for his life as he looked up into Shiro’s enraged, gray eyes. 

Keith had told the brother.  There was no saving his soul now.

Shiro didn’t say anything though, shoving past him and heading straight into Keith’s room.  Lance caught a glimpse of a lump of blankets on the bed stirring and Shiro lifting the whole thing up into a hug before the door fell shut.  Lance welcomed the familiar feeling of wanting to throw up; though he hadn’t managed to do so this whole time.

This continued for almost a week.  Lance would hide in his room unless he was sure Keith wasn’t home, and was super careful leaving for classes and coming home in the afternoons.  He had one or two more awkward interactions with Shiro, once when Shiro was making Keith food and another when he had come home late to find Keith curled up on his brother’s lap on the couch, his chest rising and falling as he slept while a movie played softly in the background.  The light from the television cast a glow over him, making his skin glow.  Lance’s heart ached at the sight, but he quickly disappeared under the watchful eye of Shiro.

He did manage to pay Nyma back, though didn’t send her a tip.  Nyma never asked about it though, preferring not to have to speak to Lance ever again.  Lance preferred it that way too.

Hunk was his only source of comfort, housing Lance whenever he felt too nauseous to go home and patting him on the back whenever he let himself cry.

It was nearing the end of the second week of all this when there was a knock at Lance’s bedroom door.  He was trying to finish a paper that was overdue, and considered ignoring it, but there was a hopeful flame, a small curiosity in his chest he couldn’t snuff out, so got up to answer it.  It was Keith, shoving an envelope into his chest.

“Here’s your money.  I tracked the owner down and returned the Stimson’s python.”

The final nail in the coffin felt like a hot rod going straight down Lance’s throat.  He tried to swallow around it.

“Y-you could’ve kept it.  I wouldn’t have minded,” his voice came out a whisper.

“I don’t want him.”

“The-then keep the money,” Lance offered the envelope back to Keith, but he was already heading for the front door.

“I don’t want your pity money either!”

The conversation ended with the door slamming behind him.  Lance still held out the money, as if maybe Keith would miraculously change his mind and come back, accepting the money and Lance’s apology.  It was in vain however, as the apartment remained silent, except for Lance’s quiet whimpering.

\---

It was another two weeks later, and Lance was having a reoccurring nightmare about coming home to a dark apartment, darting into his room and crawling into bed.  He’d get comfortable, let out a long sigh and settle in for sleep.  Then he’d feel something brush against his leg.  Thinking it was just his own pyjama pants, he would ignore it.  Then he’d feel something solid trail up his thigh, around his waist and finally up to his chest, where it would wind around his neck, and begin to squeeze.

Lance would try to move, try to pry the thing off, but he couldn’t move his arms, large hands holding down his left arm and nimble fingers pressed into his right.  He’d start hyperventilating, pleading with Shiro and Keith to let him go, that he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, but they’d only giggle at his suffering, letting Cassie’s dead body (he didn’t even know how he knew she was still dead, he just did) constrict tighter and tighter around his neck until he was gasping, thrashing, begging with his eyes-

Lance let out a scream, sitting up in bed, clutching at his neck and flailing his arms, still trying to get away from the pair of brothers out to kill him.  His eyes darted around the room, throwing back the sheets to check for zombie snakes, before he finally started to realise he was awake and safe. 

He let out a sigh of relief followed by a pained groan, rubbing at his temples, when his bedroom door was thrown open, the living room light silhouetting the figure holding a baseball bat over his head.

“What?!  What happened?!  What’s going on!?” the figure demanded.

Lance screamed again.

“I’m sorry!  Don’t kill me!” Lance bunched the covers up around his shoulders, as if that would protect him from the heavy piece of wood Keith was wielding.  Keith glanced around the room, noting there was nothing of threatening significance before his shoulders slumped and he lowered his arms.

“Jesus, Lance, you gave me a fucking heart attack!  I thought you were being strangled by a rapist or something.” 

Now that his eyes had adjusted, Lance could see Keith more clearly around the living room light still spilling into his room.  Keith was in an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that read ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had coffee’, except the ‘until I’ve had coffee’ part was crossed out.  His hair was pulled back into one of those messy ponytails that Keith managed to pull off so well. 

“Sorry,” Lance managed to get out around the lump growing in his throat.  His life seemed to be one endless stream of apologies these days.  “Just a bad dream.”

Keith was rubbing the muscles in the back of his neck, and there was a crease in his cheek where one of the couch cushions had been pressed into his skin.  He looked like he had just woken up from a nap.

It went silent again.  Keith still stood in his doorway, holding the bat at his side, framed by the light outside, not looking at him, but for the first time in weeks he wasn’t hellbent on getting away from him either.

“…where’d you even get that?” Lance asked after another long minute of silence. 

Keith looked down at the bat in his hand.

“Shiro and I were playing baseball in the park earlier.”

“Oh.”

“With apples.”

“Oh?”

“He must have left it here.  I kinda just grabbed it on instinct.”

Lance wasn’t sure which part of that to ask about first; the whole thing just seemed to introduce more questions than it answered.

“How do you play baseball with apples?  Don’t they break?”

“That’s the point.  You smash them.  It’s a good stress relief.”

“Right.”

Lance didn’t want to invite any more of an explanation into this conversation, knowing all too well whose head Keith had probably been picturing as he hit apple after apple, Shiro helping him by lobbing them his way.

“You okay?”

Lance was forced to meet Keith’s eyes at the unexpected question.  His eyes weren’t soft by any means, still full of a seething hatred, but his expression was calm and there was no malice in his voice.  Lance nodded.

“Yeah, thanks.  For coming into my room prepared to defend me.  That was pretty cool of you.”

Another long silence followed.  Lance wasn’t sure if Keith wanted to leave and was just too awkward to do so or was waiting for Lance to say something else.  So Lance just said the only thing he knew how to say.

“I really am sorry, Keith.  About everything.”

“I don’t wanna hear your apologies.  I know your sorry.”

“Okay,” Lance flinched at the harsh words, even knowing he still deserved them.

Keith actually put the bat down then, leaning it against Lance’s dresser and slowly making his way over to Lance’s bed.  He sat down on the end, back facing Lance, hands in his lap as he tried to figure out his next words.

“I know your sorry.  I just…need time to be mad.”

“That’s fair.”

“What you did fucking sucked.  Trying to cover it up sucked even more.”

“I’m so-“ Lance cut himself off.  “I panicked.  I know I should’ve just told you the truth.  I just saw you come home right after it happened and…reacted.  Not well, I’ll admit.  I just didn’t know what else to do.”

Keith let out a sigh, silence raining down upon them, but for the first time in a long time it didn’t feel uncomfortable.  It was stiff and loaded, but Lance could feel something stirring inside of it.  A resolution, perhaps?  Maybe redemption, if he was ever so lucky.

“When you kissed me…”  Lance sucked in a breath, not sure if he should plead his case or let Keith continue.  He chose the latter, but the words were dying to come out.  “When you kissed me…were you really broken up with Nyma?  Or was that all part of the master plan, too?”

Keith sounded so hesitant, not wanting to know the answer but needing to find out. 

“Trust me, Nyma and I were over the minute the pan came down.”

Keith flinched at the words, but turned to face him nevertheless.  Hair was covering most of his eyes, and Lance wanted nothing more than to reach out and push it all out of the way, so he could kiss that furrow between his eyebrows, smooth out the frown on his face, hold him and make him happy again.

“That kiss was genuine, Keith.  It wasn’t some ruse to keep you distracted or a way to suck up to you so you wouldn’t be as mad when you found out.  I had no idea.  You just looked really beautiful, still do, and I just…wanted a taste of that?” He finished, unsure if that’s how he should have phrased it, but it was out there now, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Keith was looking at Lance with an unreadable expression, tired and unsure himself.

“Okay,” was all he said, before getting up off Lance’s bed and walking back into the living room, pulling the door shut behind him. 

Lance wasn’t sure what to make of all that, but he figured he had to have made some progress if Keith was no longer slamming doors in his face.  He laid back down, staring at the ceiling.  It took him hours before he got back to sleep, but at least he no longer dreamt about zombie snakes and murderous brothers.

\---

Over the following weeks, things slowly resolved themselves.  Slowly.  So slowly.  Like slower than snail’s pace.  Like stars have formed and exploded faster.  But Lance didn’t dare to push it.

It started with Lance coming home to find Keith on the couch, freshly showered with a bowl of cereal on his lap.  He doesn’t smile at Lance, or even talk, but he grunts at him in acknowledgement, then turns his attention back to the TV.  Lance considers this some kind of victory, rushing into his room to finish an assignment he forgot about until today. 

A week later, he almost crashes head first into Shiro on the way down the stairs, running late for a movie with Hunk and Pidge.  He mutters an apology, to which Shiro just rights him and claps him on the shoulder, before continuing up the stairs with Keith close behind.  Keith nods at him again.

A few days after that, Lance wakes up late and is bolting around the apartment, trying to find a clean shirt.  He’s going to be late for a tutorial he can’t miss (group projects fucking suck, why do people gotta rely on him for a grade), when Keith comes through the door holding a basket of fresh laundry.  He places it on the couch, and proceeds to throw a Captain America shirt at Lance’s head.  He’s startled out of getting coffee, turning to his roommate with a questioning look.

“A bunch of your shit was on the bathroom floor.  It was wet and getting gross, so I washed it for you,” Keith said, starting to sort and fold the rest of his laundry, because Keith was a guy who actually kept his pants and shirts separate and in neat piles.

“Oh.  Thanks.”  Was all Lance could say, touched and astounded Keith had done something so nice.  He pulled the shirt over his head.  “I gotta run.  Thanks for the shirt!”

It was that afternoon when Lance finally got to talk to Keith again; almost a complete conversation too.  Keith was playing Super Smash Bros’ when Lance got home from his tutorial, and Lance noted he was besting everyone on the team rather easily.  He had gotten crazy good since that match between him and the others all those months ago.

“Sit down and fight me,” Keith told him, not even looking away from the screen.

Lance stopped suddenly on his way to his room, actually looking around the apartment, wondering if perhaps someone else was here and he just hadn’t noticed.

“Um…” Lance wasn’t sure if he was allowed to ask.  “Me?”

“Yes, you!  I need a challenge; this CPU isn’t doing jack shit.” 

Lance had a brief thought of the mountain of homework he had to do, but he could be failing a class and he still wouldn’t have passed up this opportunity.

So he sat down and picked his favourite (Sonic, entirely for the memes) and faced Keith head on.  Lance was scared it might get too aggressive, or it would just be an hour of two boys grunting at the TV before one of them gave up and feigned a yawn just to get away from the awkwardness, but Keith prodded at him with playful banter and Lance was happy to rebuff.  Keith was even smiling a little by the end.

It continued in little drips and drabs over the months, the semester coming to an end and Keith and Lance could almost be considered acquaintances again.  Lance walked out of his last final, rolling his stiff neck and ready for a very long, very well-deserved nap.

Arriving back at the apartment, he yanked off his pants and shirt, crawling under his covers when he heard the front door open and shut.  But instead of fading away, the footsteps approached his room, and a knock sounded at his door.  Lance grunted in reply, not feeling up to being overly polite right now.

Keith opened the door, entered through a small gap and collapsed onto the space next to Lance. 

Well, now Lance was awake.

He watched out of one eye as Keith slowly righted himself on Lance’s bed, toing his shoes off and getting under the covers.  Keith pulled out his hair tie out, black strands falling over his shoulders and into his face.  It had gotten slightly longer over the last few weeks, Keith’s work had gotten busy and he had found no time to bother going to a hair dresser.  Keith got comfortable, facing Lance in the bed, and locking eyes with him. 

Lance held his breath.

“Hey,” Keith simply said. 

“Hey,” Lance replied.

It was silent for a moment, quiet and relaxed, only their deep, sleepy breathing filling the room.  Lance wanted to fall asleep like this, facing Keith, the closest they had been in months. 

“How was your final?” Keith asked, his voice rough, lack of sleep having caught up to him too.  Lance yawned.

“Fine,” he managed to get out.  “I think I did pretty well.  What about yours?”

“I don’t have finals.”

“Right.

The comfortable silence returned.  Lance had shut his eyes, relaxing into this moment, drifting off to the thought of four weeks of vacation before the next semester began, of sleeping in and free time to eat and drink normally again. 

“I forgive you,” Keith said, and if not for the warm hand now clasping his, Lance would have been so sure he had been dreaming it.  His eyes flittered open, watching violet eyes study his face, almost scared of the answer, as if Lance could possibly reject him now.

“Thank you,” Lance could only say.  He wanted to say more, he did, but he was fucking exhausted and wanted sleep so bad it burned the pit of his stomach.  Keith seemed to be thinking the same thing, however, as he was already fast asleep beside him.  Lance followed, sleeping even better knowing this large weight had finally been lifted off his chest.

\---

Like flicking a switch, things slammed back to how they had been.  Keith asked Lance if they could go to the diner for breakfast, and Lance readily agreed.  They caught up on those missing months of each other’s lives over huge helpings of pancakes and waffles and thick milkshakes so sweet it made his teeth ache. 

“I swear to God, he’s going to propose any day now,” Keith was saying, complaining that Shiro and Matt had been getting a little too mushy in public lately, even by his standards.  Lance let out a snort.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Lance wondered aloud.

“No way.  Matt’s great, and his little sister is super awesome.  We make kissy noises at them whenever they get too gross.  At least I have a partner in crime.  I just know Shiro’s going to want me to be a big part of it.  Help organise it and shit.”

“You don’t want that?” Lance was slurping up the last of his milkshake, determined to make every drop count.

“I don’t know how to pick out China patterns, Lance!” Keith yelped, genuinely worried he could, in anyway, fuck up something like his brother’s wedding.  Lance knew Shiro would be happy with whatever little of Keith’s input he happened to give.

“Well, lucky for you,” Lance began, pushing away his finally empty glass, “I happen to have a lot of experience with weddings!  My sister is married and I helped out a tonne of my cousins with their special days!  I can help you out, if you want.”

Keith looked at him, those almond-shaped eyes going wide and pink lips parting in surprise.  Lance needed to stop noticing his lips.  How soft they looked.  How they had felt on his own. 

“Really?” Keith breathed, genuinely surprised at Lance’s offer.  Lance nodded enthusiastically.  He was a sucker for weddings.  “Lance, that would be actually super cool.”

Lance rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly bashful.

“Well, it’s not like he’s actually proposed yet,” Keith went back to paying attention to the last of his breakfast, which was basically nothing.  “But yeah, when he does, it’s a date.”

Lance tried not to outwardly scream.

\---

It happened on a late winter evening, the weather had grown mean and cold and Keith and Lance had buried themselves under blankets on the couch, hot chocolate in their hands, watching trashy cartoons on the TV.  Lance snickered at another crappy joke from the nineties, slouching so he was just a little closer to Keith’s warmth, who happened to be a living furnace.

Keith had been suspiciously quiet throughout the night, after barking suggestions at Lance from the couch as they tore through the Netflix list.  Lance was just sure he was mulling something over.  Maybe Shiro had said something.  Maybe he didn’t like the show.  Maybe he was cold. 

Lance turned to ask him what’s up, but the words were literally taken off his lips as Keith smushed their faces together.  Lance squeaked, a smacking sound coming from their lips as he reeled back.  Keith turned bright red under his own blanket, eyes fluttering as he looked away, those dark lashes touching his cheeks.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Lance had to backtrack.

“Don’t be!  That was…I mean…I was just caught off guard!”  Keith turned back to him, hope burning in his features.  “I just thought…I mean after everything that happened I just didn’t think you would want that…again…with me.”

Keith looked hesitant, but that didn’t seem to stop him as he edged closer, their breaths mingling as he pressed their foreheads together. 

“I want it,” the words came, soft and quiet, but they felt so loud as they brushed Lance’s lips.  “I want it a lot.  I’ve really missed having it with you.”

Big, round, violet eyes were boring into Lance’s and he couldn’t look away, even as he leaned in, taking Keith’s cheek into his palm, pulling him impossibly closer, and slotting their lips together.  Warmth buzzed through his entire being, Keith leaning into his touch and looping his arms around Lance’s neck, his soft sweatshirt brushing the skin there. 

It was slow and gentle and as Lance finally let his eyes slide shut, he saw fireworks dance in his vision.  He gasped when Keith pulled at his hair, a tongue slipping between his lips, warm and wet and grazing all his soft spots.  Then it was deep and hot and Lance’s lungs were burning but he couldn’t pull away.  He wouldn’t.  Even if you paid him. 

\---

It was almost six months after Cassie’s death when Lance jumped on Keith to wake him up, exclaiming they were going on a field trip, stealing his blankets so he would have to get up or freeze in what was left of the winter chill.  Keith grumbled at him, his famous ‘don’t talk to me’ shirt riding up his chest.  Lance noted his enticing nipples, but trying not to get distracted, he offered Keith the cup of coffee he had so lovingly prepared in advance.  He was on a mission here.

Keith was agitated Lance wouldn’t tell him where they were going, being forced into Lance’s ratty, old car and hunching over where the warm air was being spat out.  Lance just ruffled his hair at a stoplight, knowing Keith would lighten up once the caffeine kicked in. 

Even as they neared their destination, Lance had to calm his own quaking heart.  Today would be a hit and miss.  Either a spectacular event or a huge disaster.  He had been tossing it up for weeks, being told to stop over thinking it many times by Hunk, trying in vain to make a pros and cons list before resigning himself to his fate. 

Keith had practically fallen asleep again when they finally pulled into the parking lot, Lance undoing his seat belt before leaning over the gear stick to gently jostle him awake.  Sunlight peaked out from the greying sky, lighting up Keith’s eyes as he slowly woke back up, taking note of where they were.

“We’re here!” Lance chirped, hoping his enthusiasm would rub off.

Keith remained quiet, slowly extracting his cheek from the window and sitting up straight in the car seat, eyes fixed on the ‘Reptile Shack’ sign flashing above their heads.  Lance wasn’t even sure if he was breathing.

“Look, I totally understand if you’re not ready for a new snake, but you kept the tank so I figured you weren’t totally thrown off the idea of owning another one someday,” Lance was saying, thinking that maybe if he gave all the information at once, Keith could process and come to a more informed decision.   Lance reached over and popped open the glove box, a ratty, old, familiar envelope falling out.  “I kept it.  It didn’t feel right spending it on anything else; it was basically blood money.  You’re free to use it to go towards your new friend.”

Keith had started blinking again, at least, his neck craning as he turned stiffly to face Lance.  His expression was still unreadable, however.

“But, I mean!” Lance went on the defensive, suddenly feeling this was an obviously stupid idea and he could go escort himself back to purgatory now.  “If you wanna turn around and go home, that’s totally okay too!  Just say the word!”

Keith kept staring at him.

“Or blink.”

Nothing.

“…something.”  Keith remained frozen.  “Keith, babe, honey, please?  Just let me know in some way, shape or form if I fucked up again?”

Finally, as if someone had poked him in the back of the head, Keith’s spine relaxed and he reached over with both hands to take Lance’s face into his palms and gave him a very big, wet kiss.  Lance returned it eagerly, relief washing over him like hopping into a warm bath.

When they separated, Keith was brushing his thumbs gently over brown skin, gazing at Lance’s lips still, breathing softly on his face.  Lance shivered.

“Thank you,” Keith simply said, before pretty much turning and bolting out the car door.  Lance had to blink a few times, trying to regain his composure.  “Let’s go!  Before all the good ones are taken!” Keith was yelling from the shop’s automatic doors. 

Lance let out an amused huff before following his boyfriend.

\---

Lance was so fucking comfy.  The covers were barely covering him, his legs were in some odd direction, he had saliva running down his shoulder from where Keith had been drooling on it moments before, but God if he ain’t the comfiest he had been in a while.  His boyfriend was nestled into his side, still dozing but running his nails over Lance’s scalp, effectively furthering the comfy-ness that had been established earlier.

Then something brushed his leg.  Lance just shook his knee a little, thinking it was his pyjama pants.  Then the thing continued to run up his calf, sliding up his thigh and finding its way up his shirt.  Lance whimpered.

“Keith,” he mumbled.  Keith hummed in his ear in response.  “I have a snake on me.”

Then Keith shifted his hips and something hard and hot poked into his hip.  Lance whimpered, partly out of desire but mostly out of distress.

“Yeah, you do,” Keith said, voice now deep in his ear and his petting getting possessive, lips hot and wet on his neck.

“S’not a euphemism, Keith,” Lance whined.  “I really do have a snake on me.”

Keith extracted himself to sit up on his elbow, noting the one hundred and thirteen centimetre albino-spotted python now poking her head out of Lance’s shirt neckline.  Her forked tongue slipped out, touching Lance’s jaw.  He giggled.

Keith pushed himself out of bed, grabbing the snake’s tail end and slowly pulling her out of her current hiding place.

“Baby, I know he’s hot but that place ain’t for you,” Keith’s voice was endearing as he spoke to her, gently folding her around his neck as he carried her to the tank sitting against the wall.  They had moved it into Lance’s room pretty shortly after her adoption, realising Keith spent more than ninety-nine percent of his nights in here and it wasn’t fair to let her sleep all alone. 

Keith gently placed Hannah (yes, that was her name, Lance was always proud to announce) back into her tank and shut the lid, locking it so she couldn’t get any bright ideas.  He crouched a little to take a look at her as she slid into a more comfortable position around her log.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Daddy’s gonna go get laid.”  To which Keith turned and leapt back into bed, Lance already holding out his arms to catch him, their mouths meeting in an awkward way but both too blissfully happy to even care.

\---

They had to get out of bed eventually, however, as they had people coming over at one.  Keith got up first to shower and change and feed Hannah properly before starting on spreads.  Lance showered after and then went to help.  It took longer than necessary, Keith continuously distracted by Lance’s hips as he swayed them to something playing over the Spanish station on the radio, and Lance staring helplessly at Keith’s cute ponytail and collarbones, his damn shirt too big and stretched out too far on his shoulders.

They ended up making out against the counter.  Whatever.  It was Sunday.  They didn’t have to be totally responsible.

They managed to extract themselves from each other’s arms when there was knock on the door.  Lance glanced at the clock.

“You’re brother’s early.  Why is he _always_ early?” Lance whined, Keith giving him one last nip on his chin before going to answer it.

“He likes to help set up.”

“It’s just a hockey game!  We’re not hosting the Queen.”

“Don’t tell him that, he’ll get offended.”

Keith opened the door to a giant bear hug and Matt trailing in behind his boyfriend (still not fiancé but Keith and Pidge had a plan), holding beers and chips.  Lance watched the exchange from the kitchen, going back to slicing carrot sticks.

Even after all this time, he was still slightly uncomfortable around Shiro.  Shiro was perfectly polite to him, but Lance could tell there would always be that underlying tension, that threatening aura that rolled off Shiro automatically, the one that said ‘you hurt my brother once, don’t think you’ll get off so easily if you do it again’.  Lance respected this and tried his hardest to be pleasant, accommodating even.  Keith said he was trying too hard and that’s why Shiro still seemed so perturbed around him.

Shiro came in to put the beers in the fridge.

“How are you, Lance?”

There it was.  That overly polite talk that crawled up Lance’s spine in the creepiest of ways.  He ground his teeth together before answering.

“Good!  Passed all my classes, thank God.”

“Kind of sucks though, because now you’re more obliged to go back for the next semester,” Shiro answered, coming over to stand beside Lance as he worked.  Shiro had two beers with him, cracking them open with the ring on his finger.

Lance would’ve been more impressed by that if he wasn’t currently imagining it as his neck.

Shiro handed him one.

“Truth,” Lance replied, focusing on his carrots until he had no more carrot left to cut.  The silence was heavy, and Lance wasn’t sure if he should keep talking or just hope that the silence felt more comfortable to Shiro than it did to him.  He doubted it.

He picked up the beer to take a sip, just to give himself something to do.

“What do you plan to do once you graduate?” Shiro asked, looking at him now as he leant against the counter. 

Lance honestly didn’t know how to answer this.  Was Shiro just genuinely curious or asking in case his future plans meant he couldn’t provide for his little brother?  Was he hoping he planned to move, go abroad, and get the fuck out of his life?  Lance didn’t want to think Shiro would be so mean as to hope for something like that, but he also couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t.

“Uh…” Intelligent, Lance.  “Was sort of just…gonna…”  He didn’t think saying ‘just gonna see where the wind takes me’ would go over very well, but telling anyone his real plans was always embarrassing regardless.

Keith chose that moment to walk into the kitchen for his own beer; bless his soul.

“Watcha talkin’ about?” He said, handing the beer to Shiro.  Shiro wordlessly took it and cracked it open.  Fuck, they didn’t even need to communicate half the time.  Their relationship was almost alien.

“Lance was just telling me his plans for after graduation,” Shiro answered.  He made it sound so simple, as if the question wasn’t totally loaded.

“Did he tell you the real ones or the fake ones he rehearsed?”

Shiro eyed Lance, like he was usually in the business of faking his responses to important life decisions.  Lance took another large swig of his beer.

“I don’t know,” Shiro’s voice was cautious.  “Which one were you going to give me, Lance?”

Lance tried to speak but it came out a squeak.  Dammit.

Keith wrapped his arms around his waist though, a comforting warmth on his back, resting his chin on Lance’s shoulder and grinning at his reaction.

“He’s writing a book!  He wants to get it published after graduation and tour if it goes well,” Keith said all this in such a happy voice, Lance almost believed it would be so easy.  Then again, he always did when Keith spoke about him like that, like he was so proud of him and he couldn’t wait for Lance to go out and make his mark on the world of literature.  It made Lance’s insides melt.  “You should read some of his stuff, Shiro, he’s really good!  It’s all stuff you’d be into as well.”

This surprised Lance, he didn’t think Shiro would be into his kind of writing.  Then again, the guy was a walking contradictory.  Beef as all hell but fought with Matt constantly over whether they could afford to adopt _another_ dog (they currently had four), listened to cheesy pop songs and couldn’t stand spicy food. 

“Oh, yeah?  What do you write?” Shiro enquired, he stole a carrot stick off the tray still in front of Lance. 

Lance hesitated, but figured Shiro already knew this much, so may as well continue.

“I like philosophy, but when it’s wrapped into a fictional story,” Lance answered.  Shiro’s eyebrows shot up into his mess of white hair.  “Yeah, I know right!  I don’t look like I could think that deep, huh?” Lance tried to lighten the mood, making fun of himself.

Keith pressed a kiss to his neck.

“He writes all these fascinating stories about random shit that I wouldn’t even bother to think about otherwise.  Makes me feel like I’m in an episode of Black Mirror every time!”  Keith noted more people coming in and left to greet them.

“Wow,” Shiro breathed, though Lance could see the look of genuine appreciation on his face.  “Anything published?”

“A few online magazines have some of my stuff but nothing physical yet.”

“You should link me some of your work.  I’d love to take a read.”  This was the most interest Shiro had shown in his life outside of Keith.  Lance was trying not to break down under the pressure of not saying something too dumb.

“Yeah, sure!”  Shiro nodded at him and then took the tray of snacks and dip, walking out into the living room.  Lance let out a huge sigh of relief.  Baby steps.  He was getting there.  Slow, but steady.

Their apartment was soon bustling with people, chatter filling their living room and balcony.  They had the pre-game show running in the background as they conversed with all their friends.  Pidge was currently scolding Keith for feeding Hannah so recently; now she wouldn’t be able to hold her until she visited again later.

“I can’t just change her feeding schedule, Pidge!  She already gets snappy towards the end of the week, imagine if I made her wait any more than that,” Keith was saying, Lance’s arm hooked around his hip.  He tried to run a thumb over the bone, calming Keith down in ways only he could.

“You’re just trying to keep her all to yourself!  Jealous you might have an encroaching parental figure she might like more!” Pidge threw back.

“Hannah would never choose you over the man that provides for her!” Lance laughed at Keith’s exasperated red face, knowing Pidge had hit the nail on the head, but Keith would never admit he really did fear his snake choosing a favourite other than him.  He got testy enough when Lance got too cosy with Hannah.

The game started a few minutes later and they all crowded around to watch.

These parties were mostly for Keith’s and Shiro’s benefit, who were super into hockey and kept eagle eyes on their team’s stats like you would a dying man, but Lance enjoyed the commotion they brought with them and the enthusiasm that always rubbed off on everyone else as the game wore on.

Their team won, and Lance cheered with the rest of the crowd, though was happier he’d probably be getting sex again tonight over the fact that Keith’s team had moved up the ladder, but to each their own.

The party officially ended when Matt lobbed a half-asleep Pidge over his shoulder and said good-night, Shiro giving his brother another crushing hug before following him.  They were the last to leave.

“Ergh,” Keith took note of the beer bottles, crushed chips and forgotten dip that was now scattered across their living room.

Lance took him by the hand and led him towards their bedroom (they had converted Keith’s old room into a study slash guest bedroom).

“Forget about it, babe, we can tidy up tomorrow.”

“I have work tomorrow,” Keith argued, but followed him regardless. 

“Then _I’ll_ tidy up tomorrow.”

Keith let Lance pull him down onto his chest, bouncing slightly as they settled into the mattress, still in their jeans but now too comfortable to bother getting up.  Keith hummed and shoved his hand up Lance’s shirt, stroking his stomach softly, feeling over the barely defined muscles there.

“Mmm, good housewife.”

Lance chuckled at that.

\---

One year into their relationship, and Lance had just about had enough.  He thought he could get over it, he really did, but a man was only so strong for so long.  Lance had figured he had enough common-sense not to make any more life-altering, stupid-ass decisions, but fly too close to the sun and look what happens.  Lance cursed under his breath, slamming the door shut behind him and glaring at his boyfriend.  If this continued, Keith wouldn’t remain his boyfriend for long.

Keith was lounging on the couch, naked except for his briefs, forgoing clothes in exchange for some reprieve from the growing heat of the approaching summer.  His head on the arm of the couch, one leg stretched awkwardly over the back, a half-eaten pizza beside him on the floor, both of his snakes curled around him. 

The latest addition to their weird little family had been a rescue, the shop calling Keith saying they had a new python who had been found, almost dead, trapped under a bucket about a month before, now on his way to fully recovering and needed a good home.  Keith had barely refrained from accepting straight away, remembering communication was a thing and he should probably discuss it with his boyfriend first. 

Not like Lance was ever going to win that argument.  He didn’t really try to though, loving that Keith had been so desperate to help the poor thing.  Jesse had taken kindly to Hannah and even more so to Lance, who had ended up getting his own reptile license just so he could feel more included in their care.

Back to his current concern though.

“Fuck you,” Lance said, irritated beyond belief.  Keith ripped his eyes away from the TV, matching Lance’s glare.

“What did I do this time?” Keith barked, shifting Jesse off his bare chest so he could sit up and face Lance.

“You’re not allowed to lie there, naked, looking like a goddamn Calvin Klein model, almost giving me a heart attack as I walk in the door because my boyfriend is too fucking sexy for his own goddamn good!  I mean, how would you like it if you just walked in from a horrible day at the library to find me spread out on the couch, looking like a hot mess just begging to be cuddled and petted and other dirty things.  You offend me, Keith.  I am a weak man; you _know_ I’m a weak man.  Especially when it comes to you.  Yet here you are, laid out _literally_ bare, and I’m expected to just give you a ‘hey, how are ya?’ and continue into the study like I don’t totally have a book to write.  Screw you!”

Keith was smirking at him as he ranted and raved, that dangerous smirk, his eyes smouldering and his shoulders set into an angle that showed his collarbones just right.  Lance wanted to hit him.  On the ass. 

“I would very much like it if I came home to that, not gonna lie,” he only said, shifting to close the pizza box and set Jesse and Hannah down to do whatever they did when they were left to roam around the apartment.  Lance chanced a glance to the balcony door, noting it was firmly shut before making his way over to Keith, sliding into his lap and lifting his shirt over his head in the process.

“Okay, good.  Because guess what you get to come home to tomorrow night?” Lance had Keith’s face in his hands, their foreheads pressed tightly together as he met those gorgeous eyes Lance loved so much.  Keith’s hair seemed to shadow just enough of his face to make him seem threatening, dark, mysterious.  _So_ sexy.

“Mmmm, a naked Cuban in my bed?” Keith had his hands on Lance’s hips, shifting his weight so he was situated more comfortably over him, their crotches now aligned perfectly.

“I might not be _totally_ naked,” Lance had a lilt in his voice as their breaths mingled and their lips touched.  “But you get the gist.”

And then they were kissing, easily Lance’s top favourite thing to do.  Well, besides sleeping with Keith, showering with Keith, cooking with Keith.  Just anything with Keith was a, no-contest, great way to spend his time.  He could feel his heart swell in his chest as they continued, realising, probably for the millionth time that week alone, how much he loved this odd, socially-awkward, beautifully-built, snake-charming, brooding, emo dork writhing underneath him.

Yeah, Keith wasn’t gonna remain his boyfriend for long at this rate.  Shiro might be patient enough to wait for months on end before finally popping the question, but Lance had been an impatient being from the moment he was born (even before then, he was two weeks early after all), and wanted Keith permanently in his life.

“Love you, snake charmer,” Lance breathed, sighing into Keith’s mouth and relaxing into his embrace like he hadn’t totally been dreaming of this since he woke up to an empty bed this morning.  Damn Keith and his early shifts.

“I also happen to be a part-time Lance charmer,” Keith giggled, gripping onto Lance like he couldn’t bare the thought of them ever parting again.

“Hell, I’d say full-time,” Lance replied, wrapping himself around Keith, just like a snake.


End file.
